Oh dear Lord. Fuck me. I was being so good with that schedule thing. But yeah, that’s life. What can you do. I have tons of great excuses, and even better stories. Well, actually, not really, but that’s still a good way to make an entrance, ain’t it? I would apologize, but I’ve been told it would cramp my style (do people even still say that?)
So what happened, where did I go, what did I see?

It all started with Joke Post (hi Joke!) Joke is an architect, and works with Reversible Destiny Foundation. The firm was founded by Arakawa and Madeline Gins, two of the most intelligent, creative, and fanciful people the earth knew. Arakawa and Madeline’s architecture is positioned against death. Nothing less. They were (are, because they will never die) poets, architects, thinkers, philosophers, painters, writers. And on top of it all, they were human beings. I was too young to remember when I first met them. I do remember the birds Arakawa had. He passed away a few months after I moved back to NYC, and because I was too shy to give him a call, I didn’t get to see him again.

But Madeline. Madeline! Madeline, I wouldn’t let that happen. So we often met for very long and lively lunches in Soho, close to the house of RD. We talked a lot about manhood,femininity, life force, death of course, and arts. And Joke instantly became our third voice. There were conversations at the office about Dakis Joannou, the right dimensions for limited edition prints, and us working together on a book of biotopological poetry (a work in progress.) She would give me books she had written, others that Harry (papa) had published, and a couple of manuscripts she was working on. She also asked if she could use me as one of her guinea pigs for her visionary -and extremely complex- website. Madeline’s words and aura threw me out of what I had envisioned as « possible » and « impossible. » And for that great intelligence, and the great discomfort it sometimes created in my growing being, I’ll be forever grateful. A bit sad to think I could never told her that when her physical being was still with us.

So anyway… Joke invited me to Ezuff Film Festival last Friday, where RD was presenting two short films. Ezuff stands for Elvis Zapp Urban Film Festival, fyi. I was confused for a second by the name of the location: Spectrum. Wait, the super fun, drugged up, gay party in faraway Brooklyn we used to go to last year? That tiny super warm first floor apartment transformed (more or less) into a club? Well, that wasn’t it. The Spectrum I went to on Friday is, and I’m quoting because I’m too lazy (and too late) to come up with my own phrasing: « a technology-intensive site for innovative music, multimedia and art » which mission is « to foster innovation and virtuosity in the arts. »
Fucking brilliant if you ask me. Because it is very low-key, and unpretentious, and yet extremely innovative indeed. It’s all of that, and so much more. Super comfy mix and match chairs, big bonus worth mentioning. You feel at home whilst are being fed what could be an intelligence potion. The screening was entitled « Apodyopsis » and all the videos presented were about urbanism and architecture.

Of course, out of 2 hours, not everything was to my taste - when does that ever happen? But I was watching content I had never seen before, and that I couldn’t even connect to things I had seen in the past. Most of the films, videos, projects, had a DIY feeling, with weird editing. Some were cut in the middle - or was it all on purpose? Madeline used to do that to my brain and psyche. And so did the festival. It’s becoming rare for me to be happy after an « art event. » It’s more like leaving angry after I lost 2 hours being held hostage to some shitty ostentatious art attempt without a soul. So. Yes. Yes to leaving thinking about the work, asking myself questions, trying to figure it out, and discussing the different works with my again super cool girlfriend (hey baby <3 )
Ezuff didn’t have a program I could steal, so I was that annoying person taking notes on her iPhone. I wrote down:
Amanda Bonaiuto, Reel bricolage ; Andrew MacNair, Egg ; and Ama Mermaid pearls of the river (except the words are not in the right order, oopsie.)

The next Festival they’ll be having is 3 months from now, so clear your schedule, ya?

PS: Also, I totally forgot to go to the opening of Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmaian at the Guggenheim. They even had a breakfast planned, goddamit.
But do not worry, my dears, I now have a super tight schedule. In which there is a defined and blocked time frame in my day to drown you in petty art gossip (un peu), art reviews (maybe more) and the overuse of the word « fuck » (mom, that one is for you).
Okay, peace out readers. I need to get back to my other job. The one I’m the boss of.